


Shoot Me a Goal

by Kikikeeks



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikikeeks/pseuds/Kikikeeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Durm's not stupid by any means, it's just that he doesn't get math at all. After failing another test, Erik has to be tutored by non-other than the school's star footballer, Marco Reus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You need help, son.

**Author's Note:**

> This was suggested by one of my friends who is obsessed with Durmeus. Here's a little Highschool Au for y'all.

“Another fail? What’s going on with you, Erik?”

Erik glanced down at the paper in Mr. Klopp's hand and took it, staring at the giant red “F” at the top near his name. He grimaced. He knew that a long lecture was about to happen.

“I studied for this, honest! I just guess I don’t get integrations as well as I thought.”

Mr. Klopp sighed and sat back down into his chair. He folded his hands on his desk and nodded towards a desk in the front row. 

“Have a seat."

Erik grimaced again and took a seat. He set his bag on the floor and leaned it against the chair. 

“Look, Mr. Klopp, I’ll do better next time,” Erik said.

“You said that last time, Erik. You know, it just gets harder throughout this semester and with these grades, I’m not quite sure you can handle it.”

“Please, don’t kick me out of this class,” he pleaded. 

“I can’t kick you out, but if this continues, you’ll have to take an extensive summer class, or retake calculus."

Erik felt devastated. If he failed this semester, he wouldn’t have time for his job at the burger joint, and if he didn’t have a job, he couldn’t make money, and then, well, he didn’t want to think about what would happen next. If he had to repeat calculus, it would hinder his plans of going to a good college. There was only one thing to do.

Erik gave the best goddamn puppy face he could muster to Mr. Klopp- eyes wide and lips in a pout. There wasn't a person alive who could deny this look. Well, except maybe his mother. Erik is almost certain this look had gotten him into this school in the first place. 

“Isn’t there anything I can do? Like extra credit work? Or maybe an extra project to raise up my grade? You know I’m a good student.”

Klopp assessed Erik, his face softening. “That wouldn't be fair to the other students. There’s really only one other option. But I’m not sure it’ll help, because everyone leans differently."

Erik looked hopeful, “What is it?”

“I would have to recommend a tutor. But it may or may not work. I don’t know how you’ll work with the tutor until I get your next test grade, if you decided to go this route. If it doesn't work out though, and you get a bad grade, there isn't much you can do at that point."

Erik thought back to the first quarter, where be barely passed. Math was the only subject he really struggled in, but to go to a good college on a budget, Erik had to make sure that he at least passed it.

“I’ll do it,” Erik said.

Klopp nodded and smiled while searching through his top two drawers. He finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a sheet.

“Okay, good. I have several tutors available throughout the week,” he paused, “What does your schedule look like?”

Erik thought of his library sessions with Jonas and chemistry with Mrs. Ginter. “I tutor on English on Monday through Wednesday right after school for two hours. And then on Thursdays and Fridays, I help Mrs. Ginter in the chemistry lab,”

Klopp narrowed his eyes, “And Saturdays and Sundays?”

“Work,” Erik shrugged.

Mr. Klopp sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. He readjusted his glasses and looked at Erik. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Erik, there aren’t many tutors that will wait that long for you,”

Erik gripped his own hand tightly.

“But I’ll see if there’s another option. I have an idea, but I’m not really sure how it’ll work out.”

“I’ll take anyone, it doesn’t really matter to me. I can ask Mrs. Ginter if I can do the labs during lunch or something to open up my schedule."

Klopp smiled fondly at Erik, “No, I’ll work something out,” he glanced at the clock and stood up, taking his jacket with him. “I have practice right now, but I’ll work on it after. Mats is probably fed up keeping those children in line,.

Erik laughed at the truth behind that and stood up swiftly, holding out his hand, “Thank you so much, sir. Even if it doesn’t work out, thanks for at least looking into it,”

“No problem, Erik. Keep doing what you’re doing, kid,” he reached out and high-fived Erik’s hand and laughed at the gesture, “I don’t have that big of a stick up my ass, do I?” 

Erik chuckled nervously, not quite sure if he should find it funny, and grabbed his test and shoved it into his bag. Erik hoped that his bag swallowed up his test and he never had to see the damn thing again. Mr. Klopp smiled again and reached out to open the door when it swung open. Mr. Klopp jumped back in surprise.

“Jesus, knock first!” Klopp yelled, clutching his shirt, “You’ll give me a heart attack!”

“You’re not that old, old man,” the voice called from behind the door.

Klopp was tall enough that Erik couldn’t see through the gap of the door, but Erik felt himself getting hot. He knew that voice anywhere.

“Extra lap every time you insult me, Marco,” Klopp warned, a joking tone to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Mats is getting antsy because ‘we’re not conditioned enough for the match next week,'" he mimicked the captain's voice.

“Not really surprised he’d say that,” Klopp now opened the door wide enough that Erik could see Marco Reus standing in his training uniform with a hand on his hip. Marco raised his head and tilted it slightly to look at Erik from behind Klopp. 

“Oh, shit, sorry, was I interrupting something?” he asked.

“You'd interrupt your own funeral,” Klopp joked, “Come on, Mats is probably killing everyone as we speak,” he looked over his shoulder, “Come talk to me tomorrow in the morning, okay?”

Erik nodded, blushing from the unwaning attention Marco was giving him from his little peephole over Klopp’s shoulder. Not being able to find words, he swung his bag over his shoulders. Klopp walked out of the classroom and turned to walk down the hall. Marco raised his left eyebrow and winked as a type of goodbye. 

"Marco!" Klopp's voice echoed throughout the halls.

With a final glance at Erik, Marco jetted off.


	2. Can you repeat that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halo! I come with another long chapter. Apologies beforehand because English isn't my first language, so if there's anything incorrectly written, bare with me!

“Can you repeat that?”

Klopp sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You heard me the first time, Marco.”

“No, no,” Marco started, “I think you need to repeat that.” He put a hand on his chest as if he was offended, “Because what I heard, was that I need to take time out of my day to tutor some kid in math. And that can’t be right.”

Klopp gave him the look. “That’s exactly what I said. You’re going to tutor Erik Durm after practice at the café down the street.”

Marco looked at him incredulously. “Did you hit your head?” he asked bluntly, “Because the Coach I know would be telling me how I need to put all my attention towards football.”

“He needs the help.”

“And I need my rest!” Marco argued. He folded his arms across his chest.

“You don’t even do anything after practice. You fight for the aux cord for a good thirty minutes in the locker room and then go driving with Auba. And I heard from someone that you’re lacking community service hours.”

Marco snorted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have enough hours.”

“You have fifteen minutes.”

“That son of a bitch,” Marco thought bitterly. “Mats?”

“Mats,” Klopp confirmed. “It’s only two days a week, a hour and a half each”

“Like that’s any better,” Marco grumbled, “Why me? There are other guys better at math than me.”

“Say I’m killing two birds with one stone,” Klopp nodded towards Mats as a signal to start the cool-down. “You can thank me later.” He turned around and walked away.

Marco stared at the retreating form of his coach as he headed towards the benches. Klopp turned around and smiled like a fox. “And you start tomorrow!” he called out.

Marco groaned out loudly. He suddenly had an idea. “I GET TO BE DJ FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON!”

Klopp raised his hand in acknowledgement and Marco felt a tiny bit better. He was still pissed about what coach pulled him aside to talk about. Tutoring some kid? Definitely not something he wanted to do in his free time. Hell, he didn’t even know who the fuck Erik Drum was. He could be a prick or something.

Pierre turned around from the group stretches and looked at Marco in horror. “What do you mean?” Marco grinned. “What does he mean?” he asked Klopp.

Marco took a deep breath, “AND I WAS LIKE ‘BABY, BABY, BABY, OHH!’” he bellowed as off-key as humanly possible. This got the attention of the whole team, who were walking towards the benches to get water.

“Mats, what does he mean?” Pierre asked in increasing panic. Mats looked confused. His eyes widened in realization after looking at a smug Klopp who pointed at his ears. He turned to face Marco and yelled at the team, “SOMEONE GET THE AUX CORD AWAY FROM HIM!”

Marco laughed and ran, sticking up his middle finger in the air as he got a head start towards the locker rooms. “So long, motherfuckers!” he howled.

“Language!” Klopp yelled out after him. Marco laughed again and pushed open the gate to the pitch with the team in tow. Pierre was closest with Kevin in second. Marco sprinted down to the locker rooms and slammed the door shut after him. The door had a tendency to get stuck and took a good few pushes and pulls to get it open when slammed shut. He heard a loud bang on the doors.

“Shit!” cried Kevin, “He slammed the door shut!” There were sounds of the door trying to be pushed open. “Ciro, help me get it open!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Ciro shouted.

Marco searched through his bag desperately for his phone. He found it in one of the pouches and ran over to the speakers. He grabbed the little red cord and plugged it into his phone.

The door swung open with the whole team trying to get in. They turned a corner and saw Marco leaning on the wall with his finger hovering over the screen.

“Marco, no,” Nuri pleaded.

“Marco, yes,” Marco smirked as he pressed on the screen. The sounds of Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” filled the locker room. The team groaned and Pierre threw his towel at Marco. Marco dodged it but Mats grabbed him from the side, put him in a headlock and ruffled Marco’s hair, messing it up drastically.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you DJ tomorrow,” Mats declared. He let go of Marco and shoved him towards the lockers.

“Don’t really have a choice in that matter.”

Mats scrunched up his nose. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, since someone had to open their damn mouth, I have to tutor some kid in math. In compensation, you all have to listen to the Biebs.”

Marcel threw his sweaty shirt at Mats head, “This is all your fault.”

Mats looked sheepish, “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

Marco rolled his eyes. Auba snickered, “I feel bad for the person who has to put up with your stupid.”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul?”

Marco shrugged his shoulders, “Some guy named Erik Durm. He’s a junior.”

Sven looked up from untying his shoes in surprise, “Erik’s getting tutored by you?”

“You know him?”

“Kind of. Dude’s crazy smart. He’s in my English class,” Sven replied, “Weird that he needs tutoring.”

Marco groaned, “This is gonna be a waste of time!”

“He's cute though,” Mortiz commented while putting his arm around Leo shoulders, “He’s got this whole entire ‘puppy’ look.”

“Excuse me?” Leo said, shrugging his arm off.

“Kidding! Kidding! There’s only one puppy I want,” Moritz made kissy faces. Leo shoved away Moritz’s face with his hand.

Marco sighed, “I just don’t want to do this.”

“It’s not going to be that bad. Maybe you can tutor him in..." Auba wiggled his eyebrows, "some other things.”

“Stop. You’re all gross.”

Mats rolled his eyes, “You’re the gross one. You smell like shit.”

“We all smell like shit!” Marco yelled, turning up the volume.

 

“Hey, dad! I’m home!” Erik called out.

“Shh! Barcelona to Madrid is on!” his dad yelled from the living room.

Erik rolled his eyes and let his bag slip off his back and put his two coats on the rack. He kicked his shoes to the side and grabbed his bag off the floor. It was quiet; the only sounds were coming from the late night Spanish dramas his father routinely watched. Erik hopped over the couch and threw his bag next to him. His father was sitting on the loveseat to the right of the couch with his right leg propped up. There were two empty beer bottles next to him.

“Hey, pops,” Erik said easily, “How ‘ya doing?” His father nodded at the screen.

“I’d be better if that skank Maria would stop cheating on Cris.”

“Still? Who’s it with this time?” Erik asked, humoring his father, “Same guy as last week?”

“Nah, but you’ll never guess who it is now,” he said smugly, taking a sip. Erik pretended to look bewildered.

“Wow, I don’t know… Lionel?”

“HA!” he laughed, “You wish!”

“Neymar?”

“Close, but not it,” his dad said, “It’s Gareth! Can you believe it? Cris’- what do you kids call it? - ‘His ‘Lay-one’?”

“It’s ‘day-one’,” he snorted.

“You say ‘tomato’, I say ‘potato’,” he looked over and gave Erik the look.

 _“Oh, Cris, lo siento! Él no significa nada! Te quiero!_ ”

There was a pause as both of them read the subtitles on the screen. Oh, Chris, I’m sorry! He means nothing! I want you!

“THIS BITCH!” his father yelled out, clutching his plaid shirt, “Oh, my God! Can she give it a rest?

“Dad, calm down,”

_“Yo no puedo ver ahora. Necesito ver a James.”_

Erik read the subtitles. I can’t see you right now. I need to see James.

“Thank you, Cris! Tell her!” he thundered while shaking his fist.

Erik laughed at his father antics.

And we’ll be right back after the break.

His father leaned back, taking a swig and gave a content sigh. “It’ll be okay. Honestly, I don’t know how much more my heart can take. I’ll be dead before fifty,”

Erik sharply looked over and glared, “Don’t say that. You’re fine.”

His father gave a little quirk of the lip as a reply.

“How’s the leg?” Erik implored.

“Same old,” his dad reached over and scratched the brace, “Doesn’t act up as much anymore,”

“That’s good. Think it’s getting better?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Maybe. How was school?” he asked finally.

Erik didn’t miss the topic change. “Same old,” he paused and gulped, “I might need tutoring, though,”

There was another pause. “Can you repeat that?”

“Tutoring for math?”

His dad hmmmed and asked, staring at the screen that was showing an underwear commercial, “Why?”

Erik had been afraid of this. He shrugged, “Klopp suggested it.”

“You don’t need it. Study for it yourself.”

“It’ll only be for this lesson.”

“You don’t need anyone’s help. Study harder then.”

“I’ve tried! I really don’t get it. It’s only for a few weeks,” Erik pleaded.

“I don’t see how you need it. You start trusting other people to help you, and all they’ll do is hurt you,”

Erik looked helplessly at him, “It’s… it’s not like with mom-”

“THAT BITCH HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!”

Erik stared at his father in disbelief. His father panted after the outburst and glanced away from Erik.

He composed himself, “Just make sure that it’s worth it. I don’t want you wasting good money on something you can do by yourself.”

Erik suddenly felt another heavy weight on his shoulder. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Good college, Erik. Remember that. Money’s tight right now. You know that.”

Erik sighed, “Yeah, Dad, I know.”

The cherry mood had left the house, and quite frankly, Erik wasn’t sure if it was going to come back at all tonight. So he grabbed his things and went down the hall to his room. Erik dropped his keys onto the small plate on the counter. There was an open envelope that sat near another empty beer bottle. Erik took the envelope and pulled the letter out. He flipped the envelope over and checked the sender’s address. “Dortmund Hospital” was in big bold letters with the address underneath it.

_Mr. Durm,_

_We send this to inform you that the check you said you sent two weeks ago has not yet arrived. We are ordered to hereby suspend-_

Erik put the letter down and placed it back into the envelope. He grabbed the beer bottle and threw it into the kitchen garbage can. He walked to his room, closed the door, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's that. I wanted to portray Erik's relationship with his father complex. By the way, Dortmund Hospital actually a really nice place. I've been there a few times.


	3. Take it from the top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know why it took me so long to finish this chapter, but I got through it!

“Marco Reus?” Erik asked shocked. He leaned against a desk while Mr. Kloop paced the classroom while filing papers. Klopp had pulled him into his office this morning to talk about his tutoring sessions.

“I understand if you’re confused, but Marco is extremely good at math. He had my class last year, so he knows the material.”

“I just-uh-you know, never knew?" He cleared his throat, "I don’t mean to sound offensive, but Marco’s like-uh- smart?” He asked nervously, mentally slapping himself for asking such a stupid question. Obviously Marco was smart, or else he wouldn't have taken an advanced class last year. 

Mr. Klopp laughed out loud, “I know, I know- doesn’t seem like the intelligent type, does he? But I assure you, he’s very smart. And his schedule works well with yours. He can tutor you after practice.”

“Oh. Okay?” Erik stated more as a question.

“Meet him at the café down the street. Practice ends four-fifteen today, so he’ll meet you at a quarter to five."

“But I don’t have a ri-,” the shrill sound of Klopp’s phone broke off Erik’s sentence. Klopp put his hand up in apology and answered the call. Erik sighed internally. He didn’t have a ride to the café. He didn’t even own a car. Jonas or Mrs. Ginter usually dropped him off at the bus stop. Klopp seemed to be in a heated discussion (something about a parking ticket), so Erik walked out of the classroom with an unanswered goodbye.

He walked over to his locker. The halls were empty except for the occasional teacher going to their classroom. Erik thought about his options. He knew Marco had a car, but the odds of him taking Erik, let alone Erik even asking, were slim to none. It was a Friday and Mrs. Ginter was supposed to take him to the bus, but, of course, today of all days, she was out with a cold. And so was Jonas. “ _Perks of having only two friends,”_ he thought bitterly.

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Erik groaned and banged his head on his locker loud enough that the empty halls echoed.

\---

 

“Marco, your roots are showing.”

Marco sprung up from the bench, “What? I just dyed this yesterday!” He opened his locker door and looked at the mirror on the side. He franticly pushed aside some of his hair to examine his roots, but all he saw was blonde. He turned around to Auba holding in his laughter. “Not funny, you dick.”

Auba let out a laugh, but the Chris Brown song playing in the background swallowed it up. “Did you seriously re-dye your hair for today? I know you haven’t gotten any, but really?” He reached over and ruffled his hair. Marco felt himself go hot at the touch and swatted Auba’s hand away.

“Whoa!” Moritz threw a towel over his shoulder, “Did lil’ Marco get all pretty for Erik today?” he cooed as he walked over from the showers.

Kevin appeared next to him and shook his head disapprovingly.

“I didn’t!” Marco exclaimed, “My roots were showing, okay. And I don’t even know the guy.”

“You’ll want to, believe me,” Mortiz slyly said as he walked back towards Leo. Marco stuck his tongue out at his retreating form.

If Marco was honest, he was curious about Erik. He would never admit to it, but he tried looking for Erik through Instragram and Twitter. Both came up empty. He tried Facebook and when that came up empty as well, he checked MySpace (and Marco will _never ever ever ever_ admit that he still had a MySpace account). It was like the Erik didn’t even have a social life.

Marco put on his clothes and styled his hair just right. He was halfway done putting his cap on when Mats walked into the locker room with a huge smile. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and grabbed his bag from the bench. Marco eyed him suspiciously.

“Something up, Mats?” he asked.

“No, not really,” he tried, but the giant grin was still there.

“Uh, huh,” Marco squinted his eyes, “Spit it out.” Auba nodded in agreement beside him.

Mats looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, but they were focused on Ciro smothering shaving cream on Kuba with cries of ‘I _t’s too fucking hairy_!”.

“Okay, okay. Benni’s making plans to come to our next game and I’m just excited.”

Auba squinted his eyes, “Like Schalke’s captain Benni?”

Marco was slightly confused. Benedikt Höwedes went to Schalke, one of BVB’s biggest rivals other than Bayern Munich (and he wasn’t _even_ going to try and comprehend that rivalry). Schalke was in the same district as Dortmund and the rivalry stemmed from way past Klopp’s time. Mats was literally hanging out with an arch nemesis, and Marco’s almost certain that if anyone else caught wind of this, Mats would get his ass kicked. Marco was contemplating doing it right now, in all honestly.

Mats grinned turned sheepish, “Yeah, about that- we go way back. We were friends before he went to Schalke- grew up in the same neighborhood.”

“Cathy’s not gonna like that. She’s into the Derby more than anyone.”

“I know, but she’d get over it. It's not _that_ big of a deal.”

“You say that,” Marco muttered. He looked at his watch, “Shit, I’m gonna be late. I gotta go. Mats,” he nodded towards his captain, “Pierre,” he saluted at him, “tell Nuri he still owes me twenty for the penalty I made.” Auba saluted back and replied with a ‘will do’.

Marco walked out of the locker rooms and towards the parking lot. He jogged towards his car, rummaging through backpack for his keys. He found them in the front pocket and-

“Marco Reus?”

Marco jumped and turned around to see who called him. His eyes widened. In front of him stood what was probably one of the most attractive guys he had ever seen. He felt his mouth drop open slightly and subtly (really, he tried), Marco racked his eyes over him. The stranger looked at him nervously. He was carrying his bag over one shoulder and held his books securely in his arms. There was something about him that Marco found familiar- something in the way his cheeks were a light pink and his eyes seemed to be constantly moving. The stranger furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed at his mouth self-consciously.

“Uh- is there something on my face?”

Marco cleared his throat and felt a tinge of embarrassment.

“No, no. You just surprised me,” he said as casually as he could. “Uh, do you need something?”

Erik furrowed his eyebrows, and Marco would almost say he looked slightly offended. “Mr. Klopp said you would tutor me in math.”

_Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh._

Marco wanted to slap himself silly. _Of course this is Erik_. He knew Erik looked familiar; it was the really cute kid he saw in Klopp’s class yesterday.

Erik squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows even further, “Erik Durm?” he offered as he lifted his hand.

Marco cleared his throat again, “Yeah, I knew that.” Erik looked at him dubiously. Marco readjusted his cap; “I’m supposed to meet you at the coffee shop in-” he looked at his watch, “-ten minutes.”

Erik rubbed his free hand on the back of his neck and pouted his lips, “About that…”

Marco followed Erik’s movements with his eyes, “Are you cancelling?” he asked, slightly worried. It’s not everyday Marco got to tutor a cute boy.

“No, no, Mr. Klopp would kill me if I didn’t go… I just-um- don’t have a ride.”

“I have a car.”

Erik looked at him and then at the parking lot and then at Marco’s car and then back at him in a way that seemed to say- _is he fucking serious?_

“Yeah, yeah, I-uh- can see that.”

Marco now wanted Erik to hop in his car and run Marco over. Several times. He licked his lips and attempted to smile.

“I mean- I could give you a ride.”

Erik smiled brightly and walked closer to Marco, “Thanks.”

Marco was really glad he was tanner than his usual ‘cracker-self’ because he was sure he’d be a bright red tomato. Marco turned around swiftly and pressed down on his keys to unlock his car. He walked over to the passenger side to open the door (because his mother taught him to always be a gentleman, that’s why) and- _of course_ \- he tripped on his shoelace. He quickly grabbed the car’s mirror and steadied himself. He heard Erik snort, but when he turned around to look at him, Erik had a straight face.

_Cheeky bastard_.

Marco tugged on the door and sidestepped to allow Erik to climb in. As Erik passed him, Marco could smell the faint scent of cologne and it made his spine tingle. _Like the woods with a hint of vanilla._

Marco climbed into his driver’s side and started the car. Immediately, an extremely loud EDM song played and it made Erik jump out of the seat as he put his seatbelt on. Marco hastily turned down the knob and gave an apologetic smile (which really looked like a grimace). He saw Erik tightened his grip on his bag, so Marco reversed out and headed towards the school’s exit. Turning a right, he drove down the street to the café. The silence between them was awkward to say the least, so Marco switched from his Bluetooth to the radio.

“You can pick something if you want. I gotta keep an eye on the road; you know, ten-n-two,” he attempted awkwardly.

“Uh, sure.” Erik reached over and fiddled the knob. He went from the news to sports but landed on a popular music station. The rest of the ride was filled a soft pop song. Marco pulled up into the café parking lot and park near the little café. A large black and yellow LITTLE BEES shone brightly above the shop. Marco was about to open the door when Erik’s hand beat him to it.

“So you don’t trip,” he said mock-sweet as he opened the door. Marco looked at Erik for a second longer and then moved into the café to find them a seat. It was relatively empty; only a few tables were taken, but Marco saw a small table right next to window. He beckoned Erik to follow and the walked over to the table and sat down.

“Okay, so Klopp gave me your last couple of tests,” Marco said, going through his notebook to find them, “and it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve gone.”

“He gave you my tests?” Erik asked worried.

“Except that last one, but he said you had it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he slowly rummaged through his bag and pulled out a crumpled paper, “Here,” he said sheepishly.

Marco took the test and opened the crumpled mess. His eyes widened at the red marks everywhere. He looked back at Erik who was turning red at an increasing pace.

“It’s okay. We’ll take it from the top.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to make the interactions more realistic (in a sense), so if you have any suggestions, let me know!


	4. Free of Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK

“Okay, so you see this?” Marco asked, pointing to the _dy/dx_ on the worksheet, “You just leave it here.”

 

Erik nodded while twirling a wooden pencil around in his fingers, “Couldn’t I just distribute it?”

 

Marco leaned back into his chair, “Yeah, you could, but on a timed test, you want the fastest possible way to solve the equation. Distributing it would just make it more difficult. You can just solve it by isolating it.”

 

Erik stared blankly at the paper for a long second before raising his hands towards his face and groaning loudly into them. He heard Marco chuckle. They had been going over the same problem for the last thirty minutes and he still didn’t understand it. It seemed so simple when Marco explained it (and he probably did three hundred times already), but when Erik tried a similar problem, he was stumped. And it wasn’t that Marco was a bad tutor. In fact, Erik could whole heartily see why Klopp assigned Marco to him.

 

“It’s not that hard,” Marco assured, “if you just understand the basics.”

 

“Says you, you sick math genius,” Erik retorted bitterly, “I have no clue what’s what. I have absolutely _no idea_ what is going on. I feel like I'm reading Finnish or something!”

 

“You’ll get it eventually. I’ll drill you so hard, it’ll be the only thing you think about.”

 

The second that flew out of Marco’s mouth, Erik’s eyes widened and he felt the temperature raise a few notches. Marco’s mouth went agape and he seemed to be processing what he said. A part of Erik wanted to save Marco the embarrassment and pretend he didn’t get the dirty innuendo (cue his left side angel), but another part of Erik wanted to push boundaries (cue his right side devil). He always referred his right side anyway.

 

“Well, _that_ depends. Are we still talking about math here?” he asked with a quip of his lips.

 

Marco seemed to blush (but Erik couldn’t really tell because, well, tan) and he quickly closed his mouth and cleared his throat. He brought up a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck while glaring at Erik, who now had a shit-eating grin. “Just finish the damn problems, you little shit.”

 

Erik laughed loud enough for the other patrons of the café to look at him annoyed.

 

\---

 

The tutoring session went for an extra five minutes, and Erik hoped he didn’t have to pay extra.

 

Marco gathered the papers on the tables and straightened them into a neat pile before he handed them to Erik.

 

“You can use these as references any time you want. The tips and notes are written in red,” he said, while Erik collected the notes. Erik was surprised. He didn’t even notice Marco writing down anything.

 

“I didn’t even see you write these,” he said, shuffling the papers, “Wow. Thanks a lot.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Marco stood up, “Hopefully they’ll help you.”

 

“Yeah, I hope so. I swear, this is the only chapter I don’t get,” Erik stood up as well. “By the way,” he added, “how much do I owe you?”

 

Marco grabbed his bag and looked at Erik confused. “Money?” he asked, “It’s free of charge.”

 

“But it’s not like you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” he argued.

 

Marco scoffed, “What makes you think I can't help the needy?”

 

Erik raised an eyebrow. Marco put his hands up in defense.

 

“Okay, okay, Coach made me do it- community service hours? I honestly was going to forge them, but Mats snitched on me. So, I mean, technically,” he drew out the word, “I _am_ doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

 

“All free of charge?” Erik asked. His dad would like that.

 

“All free of charge,” he grinned. He seemed to ponder something before he asked, “Do you want something to eat? I probably should’ve asked earlier.” He jerked his thumb towards the café counter.

 

“Um…” Erik felt shocked. _Marco Reus wants me to stay longer?_ He looked down at his watch, “ _Shit_. No, sorry, I have to catch the bus.”

 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Marco assured, “I’ll see you later, I guess?” He reached around to fiddle with his cap.

 

“Yeah, till next time.” Erik turned his attention towards his things and gathered them up before taking one last look at Marco. He was waiting in line and put his earphones in while fiddling around with his phone. Erik swung his bag over his shoulder and walked out the door. He knew the bus stop was close by- only one block down.

 

Erik zipped up his jacket and started his trek towards the stop. His body fell into a rhythm. He thought about the tutoring session and he thought about Marco. From afar, Marco had looked like one of those cocky, unapproachable idiots, running around, acting like he owned the world. He looked rich. He looked happy. He looked cool and collected. He looked like he got spray tans every week and dyed his hair blond whenever a lick of brown (Erik guesses) appeared. But up close and personal, Erik had seen a sillier side to him. Marco blushed a lot for one, and if it weren’t for his tanned skin, he’d be as bright as a tomato.

 

He’s also kind of clumsy with his words and sometimes tripped on air, which, Erik finds somewhat cute and endearing. He had a crooked smile and sharp teeth. Another thing that surprised Erik, was that Marco was reserved- he never gave up personal information. Thinking back, Erik recalled seeing Marco with his friends eating in the cafeteria for the first time. They always sat outside, but it was raining too heavily that day for anyone to sit outside, so Marco and his little posy sat at a table in the center of the room.

 

Erik and Jonas sat in one of the corner table that had a good view of them. Erik could see how everyone in the room just gravitated towards the center. He remembered hearing Marco rambunctious laughs at something Pierre had said. Marco leaned into Pierre’s touch and grinned so hard his eyes were just little slits. Jonas had remarked that it was surprising to see Marco, for once, not making a “bitch face” like he always did.

 _Wow, Bitchface Mcgee is actually smiling today. Who would've thought?_  

Erik was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize he arrived at the bus stop. He sat down next to an old lady on bench, gave her a little smile (that went unreciprocated), and sighed. He looked at the times for the buses and saw that it would be another ten minutes before the bus arrived. That just left him to his thoughts once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the wait! I recently bought a new laptop and have just been working out the kinks. If there are any errors, blame my lack of English. More updates to come; just translating them to English.


	5. Lucky You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really long overdue.

Usually, when Yvonne calls, it has something to do with Nico. This time it’s no different.

“I am literally not even close to the church.”

“Marco, come on! It’s not even far away,” Yvonne sighed, and Marco can practically see the pissed off face his sister has. “You promised you would help me out.”

“Yeah, with babysitting or something, not driving halfway across Dortmund to pick up Nico!”

Yvonne groaned loudly, “Stop being such a shitty brother! I can’t leave work until way later.”

Marco rolled his eyes and slumped further into his car seat. It’s not that he doesn’t love his nephew- he _really, really_ does- it’s just that he doesn’t want to cancel his already-made plans. He let his head fall back and hit the headrest with a grunt.

“I’m not a shitty brother. I used to bring you those goddamn sardines whenever you wanted when you were pregnant. I already made plans with Marcel and Robin though. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Yvonne scoffed, “I didn’t know earlier. If I did, I would’ve asked a more _compliant_ and _reliable_ sibling. Just pick up Nico, drop him off at home, and then go meet up with your dumbass friends. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“What’s wrong with Mel?” Marco asked, with a little hope that his other sister might help him out.

“Busy. Like extremely busy. Like so busy, she couldn’t even answer her phone.”

“So, she’s with her boyfriend,” Marco replied, with a shake of the head.

“Yep. So, anyway, now I have you, so, go pick him up.”

“God,” Marco replied with a grimace, “when did you get so damn bossy?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Marco… maybe when I gained about fifty pound? Or maybe, it was because I was carrying a baby around in my stomach for about nine months? Or maybe, it was when I ate sardines with peanut butter and no one stopped me!” she practically screamed.

“You practically bit my head off when I said that it was gross! That was a dark time, sis,” Marco shuddered, “Fine, I’ll go pick up your shitty son. You owe me gas money though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Don’t even act like it’s such a chore; we all know you love Nico the most.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Marco turned on the ignition, “I want you to be singing praises of me when I get home.’

Yvonne laughed into the phone, “I’ll save all of that for when you get called up for the national team. Now, go get my son.” And then she hung up.

Marco rolled his eyes again and adjusted the air conditioning. As annoyed as he was, he could never be upset at his sister or nephew. The only problem was that Marcel and Robin were going to be pissed that Marco was cancelling plans. Tonight, they were going to be playing on one of the public pitches in the park against some other friends.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Marco dialed Robin, the more understanding and less emotional one of the two. Robin answered with two rings.

“Hey, what’s up? When are you coming over?”

“Heeeeeeeyyyyy, about that…”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re not going,” he whispered into the phone.

“I have to pick up Nico.”

“Oh shit, uh, well, I’m sure Marcel will…uh… understand?”

“This is Marcel we’re talking about. He will _kill_ me.”

“Yeah, no, you’re fucked. Sorry, buddy.”

“This is why I have you- you can break the news to him for me.”

Robin laughed loudly then quickly covered it up with a cough.

“Fuck that, I don’t want to die too. It’s all you.”

“Oh, come on! Help me out!”

Marco could practically _hear_ the eye roll.

“We’ll see. Tell Nico I said ‘Hi’ though. Love that little guy.”

“Will do. Now, go tell that monster I can’t go.”

Robin sighed, “You know that girl he likes is going to be. He’s trying to impress her.”

“Won’t she be more impressed by me if I go?” Marco joked, “Tell him it’s a blessing in disguise.”

“Okay, you’re funeral. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you,” Marco muttered. When the call ended Marco turned the knob to blast his music. He _really_ , _really_ , _really_ loves long trips.

 

\---

 

The first thought Marco had when he arrived at the church was “What a shitty church.”

Well, if he thinks about it, it’s not really a shitty church. It just looks worn down. _Vintage_ , as Auba would say. And the Reus’ have money- not tons of it, grant you- but more than enough to put Nico into a daycare system that is in a more modern church. And, really, it doesn’t even have to be in a church too. His family knows how uncomfortable he gets around churches too. He feels judged every time he even comes within a mile radius of one.

Marco walked up to the main entrance and opened the door. On the inside, it had a cozy atmosphere. There was an older woman at the front desk. She looked up from her book and waved him closer inside.

“Here to pick up a little one?”

“Yeah, Nico? My sister sent me to pick the squirt up.”

“Aw, we love Nico. Yvonne talks about you all the time. Marco, right?” he nodded in reply, “I think he’s outside playing with the other kids and one of the daycare workers. Just go out the back door that way.” She pointed behind her.

Marco passed by her, and pushed open the doors to the back. Outside was a little pitch with tiny goals on either side of it. It had a playground set to the right and a small sandbox included. There were a little over half a dozen kids. All of the kids were looking out further behind the big wooden fence.

“Did you get the ball yet?” one of the kids yelled. Marco looked around for Nico since they were all standing still. He didn’t see him and was just about to walk back inside until he saw Nico running from around the fence. A few seconds later, someone came running up behind Nico. And, wow, would you look at that view. Marco clenches his eyes shut and brings his hand up to his mouth. He bit his lip.

_I solemnly swear I will go to church if I get to see that every week. God bless. God bless._

He sends prayers up to whoever made that _fine, fine_ piece of ass.

“Marco?” they called, “is that you?”

Marco quickly dropped his hand and opened his eyes. Erik Durm stood at the opposite end of the pitch.

“Hey,” Marco called back. Even from far away he could see Erik looked extremely confused.

“What are you do-“

“Erik, throw the ball already!” one of the kids in a pink hoodie interrupted. Erik gave Marco a quick glance before throwing the ball up high. The little kids all swarmed the area and dispersed when the ball came down.

Nico, _of course it was Nico_ , stole the ball quickly and was dribbling down the side. Marco almost shed a tear, because Nico was using one of his tricks.

Erik ran over to Marco, which really wasn’t too far, and stopped right in front of him. He looked as good as ever.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Marco replied.

“What are you doing here?”

“Stalking you,” Marco answered quickly. _Fuck, are you kidding me? “Stalking you?” YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME, MARCO._

Erik looked seriously concerned for a moment before Marco reiterated, “I’m kidding. I’m here to pick up my nephew.”

Erik laughed a little, “I was worried for a moment. Who do you need to pick up?”

“Nico? Short little blond kid?”

“There are a lot of ‘little blond kids’. We live in Germany.”

“That’s a little racist.”

“It’s not really,” Erik said with a small smile.

“Yeah, well- oh,” Marco stopped his sentence to trap that ball that went over the goal closest to the two.

Erik made a noise that sounded like he was impressed. Marco was about to kick it back when he heard a screeching voice.

“MARCO!” Nico screamed, running as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Marco grinned and walked up a little to meet him. He squatted down to pick Nico up and held him up with one arm. “Hey, there, big guy.” Nico cuddled into his neck.

Marco turned around with Nico in his arms. Erik breaks out into a big grin and walks closer to them.

“Hey, Nico. You heading home?” he asked, brushing a stray hair that came out of Nico’s hat.

Nico turns suddenly to face Erik and started to pout, “What? I wanna stay!”

Marco frowned slightly, “We gotta get you home. Papa’s at home waiting for you.”

Nico started to twist and turn in Marco’s arms, “I wanna stay! I never get to stay! They always play without me!”

“You got to play today, though,” Erik comforted.

“I wanna play some more!” Nico shouted, “Marco, play with me!” Nico tugged on Marco’s sleeves and wiggled out of his grip. Marco bent down and dropped him. Nico grabbed Marco’s pants (what a surprise there was anything to grab) and pulled him towards his friends who were all running around the pitch.

“But-” Nico gave him _the_ face.

“Nico, come on-” Nico pouted his lips.

“Really-” He looked to Erik for support.

“Erik, help me-” Erik slowly started to pout his lips.

“Erik, that isn’t helping at all-” Erik looked at him with doe eyes.

“I-” He looked back at Nico, who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey, no, no, no, don’t cry!” Marco cried out, “No, look you can play. I’ll just tell you’re momma, okay?”

“But,” Nico started, “you’ll play too, right? Erik’s team always beats us.”

“I… fine,” he sighed, “when we win, then we go home, okay?”

He heard a snort behind him. “I’m sorry, Erik, is there a problem?”

“Ohhhhh, nothing… just funny how you assume you’re going to win,” he shrugged.

Marco looked him in the eyes, “You do realize who you’re talking to right?”

He added the smile at the end so Erik didn’t think he was a dick _all_ the time.

“We’ll just have to see what team wins, then, won’t we?”

Erik walked past Marco and called out to the children to gather around. Nico ran happily with him, and Marco was left alone. He smiled softly before reaching into his pocket for his phone.

He had three text messages from Marcel calling him a “dick cookie”, two text messages from Yvonne telling him she was going to be home late, and one text from Robin.

**_Lucky you. Game was moved until midnight. Have fun with Nico._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, really, really, really long overdue.


End file.
